dear american women, you are strong, liberated, powerful…but damn your posture sucks.  no seriously, i don’t know why the humble, “i’m not here” slouch is so popular here.  this is always the most obvious to me in zumba classes.  maybe it’s because there is so much latin music that we dance to that makes this characteristic stick out so sharply.

i’m sure that there are deep socio-political-psychological reasons for this.  yes, i can be a powerhouse  at the office if i just hide my boobs.  or, maybe it’s the trend (has anyone else noticed how slouchy teenage girls are just oh so charming and lovable in movies?)

this shoulder slump seems to be married to the conspicuous lack of ass jiggling that isn’t happening as well.  it may be a cultural thing, sure.  where i come from, my ass shaking ability is seen as moderate at best.  i’ve seen women in my country whose hips and ass do not seem remotely hinged to the rest of them when they dance.

i know, i know.  you’re not a sexual object.  do you have to be?  is that all your body is?

i lift my chest high and wiggle my wiggler, even when no one is watching, even when a bunch of people are, for one reason.  it feels good.  there, i’ve said it.  my body likes to move in all the different dimensions available to it.

this morning, my instructor said: “in this dance, we clap our hands above our heads and it’s not just for fun, it increases your fitness.”

i could hear a murmur spread through the class.  “oh, it increases my fitness.  now i’ll do it.” was almost audible to me.

i get it.  i mean, i didn’t start meditating until my thirties because it doesn’t burn any calories.  well, maybe five calories, but i inhale more than that in airborne microbes on each breath.  so, i kind of understand this thinking.  i really do.

but, please, please, please….this is the merengue, the samba, the mambo, the salsa, hip hop, greek and middle eastern music that we’re dancing to…clap your damn hands and shake your ass and throw your tits in the air already cuz it’s fun.

in other news, a little backstory:

my hair is growing out and is a little…unruly.  (yes, southern lady from barnes and noble, i do have big lips, a negroid nose and unruly hair and yes, again…i do have black (although you strung that one syllable word out into four) in my family and am damn proud of it.)  so, in the mornings, i slap a hat on.  after my workouts, i throw the hat in the bag with my sweaty workout clothes until the next day.

today, i took my hat off when i got to my car and cradled in its folds was my underwear from yesterday.  so maybe, just maybe, this cranky post comes from the fact that i did a whole zumba class with a dirty pair of underwear up against my skull.

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